tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54404047405446051012024-03-05T18:16:48.472-05:00Lazy Bee Farmmattyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06749881104429358524noreply@blogger.comBlogger588125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5440404740544605101.post-30662019272526196012016-09-10T18:17:00.000-04:002016-09-10T18:17:01.269-04:00Waiting for a freeze... <div style="text-align: right;">
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How about a little canning and wild crafting glam?? <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJjEv361rrzJexlzZED5Vbh7xn9hyphenhyphene4ekk7WKg4iB1xd5Akaxs5BsAkvD8zT54rILvVPCDD_eSVXcHiHIYyugBda3rS8FIRpSDtkj6I29iEOMYviOSNZWwbm2RS75GzilbyAmJQdnM20/s1600/IMG_1973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmJjEv361rrzJexlzZED5Vbh7xn9hyphenhyphene4ekk7WKg4iB1xd5Akaxs5BsAkvD8zT54rILvVPCDD_eSVXcHiHIYyugBda3rS8FIRpSDtkj6I29iEOMYviOSNZWwbm2RS75GzilbyAmJQdnM20/s400/IMG_1973.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fox grapes along the creek gathered while standing in a tractor front loader...</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihcet9GO850k9gu2VYjWBMrPVwZZRHeeVmY2Xj3Oo1gt6sOQ2f818wqvlgLyssuoSaADx3_TuA5w8dV0Y8XiMzs6MLASR5-RR8UudIC0ygNmPvjVmrgpGy2H-WIvXK0vhjjqWvqEV8yr8/s1600/IMG_1978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihcet9GO850k9gu2VYjWBMrPVwZZRHeeVmY2Xj3Oo1gt6sOQ2f818wqvlgLyssuoSaADx3_TuA5w8dV0Y8XiMzs6MLASR5-RR8UudIC0ygNmPvjVmrgpGy2H-WIvXK0vhjjqWvqEV8yr8/s400/IMG_1978.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">become an itsy weeny grape pie... </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYEeDy8Mq9KBanf63CuNCL0J5_OnTs9tRAIjYVKVu3T-7KwPfmn_mK61Kp8MY0MqJ6nDTQxwOnf0PeF3Cz13usAhRLlOTmnwIAsgHRNPNbNPGxQ8KTNBpM4YtAT6N4z9e68uscrGzKx8/s1600/IMG_1980.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYEeDy8Mq9KBanf63CuNCL0J5_OnTs9tRAIjYVKVu3T-7KwPfmn_mK61Kp8MY0MqJ6nDTQxwOnf0PeF3Cz13usAhRLlOTmnwIAsgHRNPNbNPGxQ8KTNBpM4YtAT6N4z9e68uscrGzKx8/s400/IMG_1980.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scrappy abandoned pears become... </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje0L2FpQc0h_ViyrTvitptdvDjKOvWV8Hy219Pl0FWrnOmqf2Hhb1vec5rlInYttcOvp4Gl0cvKec7xu-gk4OaCzG7j_1vbSlbZFKSU4bh43IbP3wLw9XHTK3On_Q1w8s4IJKu4aTHtFM/s1600/IMG_1981.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje0L2FpQc0h_ViyrTvitptdvDjKOvWV8Hy219Pl0FWrnOmqf2Hhb1vec5rlInYttcOvp4Gl0cvKec7xu-gk4OaCzG7j_1vbSlbZFKSU4bh43IbP3wLw9XHTK3On_Q1w8s4IJKu4aTHtFM/s400/IMG_1981.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">cinnamon pears for a winter's day salad.... </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YLqc7iF2KCjHD_tGEQVFki6UJVCZ2wVkFZQHZ8KhAXKWK4XsELFSsdSqa9O1XBrAKn2ape5ZzIdA7-FtDgojE6tKZFNEJBhIRyrqm5_EvljH_hFz2qvdVOk3yssuuQUEfEImJvgvM_g/s1600/IMG_1975.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8YLqc7iF2KCjHD_tGEQVFki6UJVCZ2wVkFZQHZ8KhAXKWK4XsELFSsdSqa9O1XBrAKn2ape5ZzIdA7-FtDgojE6tKZFNEJBhIRyrqm5_EvljH_hFz2qvdVOk3yssuuQUEfEImJvgvM_g/s400/IMG_1975.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">and fall berries become a mantel centerpiece... </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Fall is here, although the calendar and the temperatures don't quite support that declaration... The leaves are dancing in the breeze and there is a certain crispness in the mornings that hints to the knowledgeable that sweaters will soon be the order of the morning. Dew hangs heavy on anything left out overnight and it is later and later in the morning before things dry out.<br />
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Hay is coming to the hay barn and, at last, the tomato vines have decided their work here is done. I have one or two more canners of tomatoes and we will be finished with them. Thank. Goodness.<br />
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Apples were not quite ready last week, so they are still on the horizon and the pigs, Hammie, Sausage, and Bacon, will be processed October 26. We treat them to all the leavings from canning and have started adding a little corn and higher protein food to help them put on a little fat layer. Yorkshires are quite trim, by nature, so any fat on them just adds to the flavor of the sausage.<br />
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Soon, we will watch the snow fly and wonder where the summer went. Until then, I sip my morning coffee on the porch as the sun comes up casting diamonds through the air and welcoming all creatures great and small to another beautiful day. <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxhp0Sic_CcAvepOHrlOhM49F7vyuRhoKa7wJ6igpMEmlxSRj2rKV3RsFBmXxu8zGQJToloTpPUbzlhZxSFATjsPYXid5GAN_HvhAI5KGOfWRXyrJxYaMy1tt8lvNzla43Gi14EOzY3Hw/s1600/IMG_1954.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxhp0Sic_CcAvepOHrlOhM49F7vyuRhoKa7wJ6igpMEmlxSRj2rKV3RsFBmXxu8zGQJToloTpPUbzlhZxSFATjsPYXid5GAN_HvhAI5KGOfWRXyrJxYaMy1tt8lvNzla43Gi14EOzY3Hw/s320/IMG_1954.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br />
It is beginning to feel like fall, at last! Today our temperatures are in the 60s, which is lovely! There is a sweet little breeze teasing the trees and fall is palpable.... at least for today..<br />
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My task this week has been, sigh, working in the Canning Factory, aka Lazy Bee Farm. Another 42 quarts of tomato sauce has been tucked upstairs for winter along with, to date, 24 quarts of small potatoes. When we worked the farmer's market, we sold these as "top of beans taters." Now, I notice that the grocery store has appropriated that moniker, too!<br />
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This weekend, being Labor Day, we will pick our "found" apples, orphan trees we have watched for several weeks for fruit. Applesauce and dried apples will be the order of the weekend, along with, I hope, apple pie filling and sliced apples. Today, though, it is more tomatoes....<br />
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My other projects for the weekend are to clear out a corner of the yard to move butterfly bushes we found at the wood's edge (how did that happen? We can't decide!) and a beauty bush from my parent's house. I have some hostas to divide, as well, and they should do fine there. I love it! Landscaping on a zero budget! The best kind!<br />
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My fall garden was put in today, too. I have broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, beets, peas, and brussells sprouts. A fall garden is new for me, but I am eager to see how it does. The way the seasons have shifted, I anticipate a nice little crop for the fall. <br />
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What are your plans for Labor Day?? Laboring? Or having fun? <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3G9cIPqJMTvzit-RZek3WuKc1gRu7GuPTTH3EgckQBRZpogXzR1oYVrBTbNTeegGzdmpjoAOrsngiz-5WW6tvAGzDyxIoWdzSPuWtJ0NoYgSHb9mFFU7OpwmeBwh4dHuqJ2yTQBBrWdw/s1600/IMG_1951.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3G9cIPqJMTvzit-RZek3WuKc1gRu7GuPTTH3EgckQBRZpogXzR1oYVrBTbNTeegGzdmpjoAOrsngiz-5WW6tvAGzDyxIoWdzSPuWtJ0NoYgSHb9mFFU7OpwmeBwh4dHuqJ2yTQBBrWdw/s400/IMG_1951.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fox Grapes washed and ready to can</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"> </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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My nose told me it was time. I could smell the grapes from the front porch and knew we had to get the tractor, head to creek, and pick all that deliciousness before the birds beat us to them. Mister's tractor has the longest reach, so we took it to the creek's edge and started checking out the vines. I stepped into the front loader and UP he took me so I could peek under grape leaves and tree branches for these amazing grapes.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCUTkFAcyvIqKC3if3JbQT2X1__evUQTwADk2Fq3my9n1ujZgRPt5F7Ujsn0DGk1FuzCB0T6FUKhpFAin3bEO8y28lunnUYCH_KNxxR9L54KK9c5tvQMywxIwM_hex4-a3IKIBWQtN5s/s1600/IMG_1952.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMCUTkFAcyvIqKC3if3JbQT2X1__evUQTwADk2Fq3my9n1ujZgRPt5F7Ujsn0DGk1FuzCB0T6FUKhpFAin3bEO8y28lunnUYCH_KNxxR9L54KK9c5tvQMywxIwM_hex4-a3IKIBWQtN5s/s400/IMG_1952.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grapes ready for sugar and boiling water</td></tr>
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Within 20 minutes I had a bucketful and we were headed to the house for phase two -- washing, sorting out the bad ones, and filling jars for the canner.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVO-YTwDqiKyHOuCv8MYACogbl1cdsdI1_3ioa6A_DdQjcu_lha1TNdor_u4_il_0R-rTNAjCaHmKjP2IXHX5ybQteygk2l7ZH1KdQzFXX5224znW8Hp_GXqbbeTDiTWJmoz93121c-M/s1600/IMG_1953.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRVO-YTwDqiKyHOuCv8MYACogbl1cdsdI1_3ioa6A_DdQjcu_lha1TNdor_u4_il_0R-rTNAjCaHmKjP2IXHX5ybQteygk2l7ZH1KdQzFXX5224znW8Hp_GXqbbeTDiTWJmoz93121c-M/s400/IMG_1953.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready for the canner</td></tr>
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I learned to make grape juice from an older woman here in the mountains. Nannie VanHoy took me under her wing and taught me so many wonderful things about local wildcrafted foods and this is certainly one of the best! The recipe is simple:<br />
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1 c. grapes, washed and stemmed<br />
1 c. sugar (I use only 1/2 c.)<br />
Boiling water<br />
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Put in canner and process for 10 minutes.<br />
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Done.<br />
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Now the hard part. This juice improves with age, so we usually open the first jar at Thanksgiving and mix it with club soda. Soooo good!<br />
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And, if a seal should not set... well... a little mountain wine is good for the stomach. Trust me. <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGb1SWPk779jlyZcdgeHxW21Gr5YTusyZv7M7-xFxt2F6iFQ8U3QXAhB73Q8_zkQ8NNN8GSIeqDiX9XZox2DkHnSEpoPr7dOnQXtOCVAIq-i0tfdLHAlRYXKECnomKMQ1xk8BmJqB8x8/s1600/IMG_1946.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtGb1SWPk779jlyZcdgeHxW21Gr5YTusyZv7M7-xFxt2F6iFQ8U3QXAhB73Q8_zkQ8NNN8GSIeqDiX9XZox2DkHnSEpoPr7dOnQXtOCVAIq-i0tfdLHAlRYXKECnomKMQ1xk8BmJqB8x8/s400/IMG_1946.JPG" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The green ones fell off while I was picking; they will ripen on the windowsill.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One of the things I most love is putting up food for the coming year. It makes me feel so safe, knowing we will have good, healthy food to eat when winter comes or we have the need for reserves. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This year, for the first time since I've lived in this house (23 years!), I have tomatoes! In the past, they have always blighted or the tomatoes just wouldn't ripen. This year, though, I planted them where I had composted for two years with the lovely richness from the goat yard and chicken house. And, it is a little higher on the mountain than my previous garden. The plants came from a high school agriculture class a former student teaches. These plants have taken over the garden! Forgive me for not remembering the varieties; however, the fruit is either pink, yellow, and red.... Such lovely colours! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was staking them up every few days until they became so heavy they Just Laid Down. And have stayed that way, full of green tomatoes which seem to quickly become ripe and ready for a jar!</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0BnN6cidozi84DPctqpIrZJHyns3u_1i9ztVa-5UkphbLyM4q4y3ZsjfxDMZvXHSugYO5BXGKAmcr2AWRtJsAxC1K7bMiNaLZv-56Bk0DST5EOGg5qtAOceVyFnEz6leqYNQlJw6Nnrs/s1600/IMG_1948.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0BnN6cidozi84DPctqpIrZJHyns3u_1i9ztVa-5UkphbLyM4q4y3ZsjfxDMZvXHSugYO5BXGKAmcr2AWRtJsAxC1K7bMiNaLZv-56Bk0DST5EOGg5qtAOceVyFnEz6leqYNQlJw6Nnrs/s400/IMG_1948.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just some of the salsa I've put up this year along with tomato soup. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> I have made chili, sauce, salsa, soup, veggie soup with tomatoes, plain tomatoes, pizza sauce, and tomato chutney. And still they come. Every day, I go to the garden and tip toe around the vines to collect the ripe fruits for the day's canning. And, with each jar I whisper, "One more meal!" My pantries overflow and we are now putting boxes of the fruit in the back upstairs bedroom where it is cool in the winter!</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNO47ms4GL0_Rek4UJ2ACIEaWrykXJ4rMtn_r8n0ZlnzLDxtvhkQtd9GCqT451ihiMyhrM1kg6KG4loSNDSX_215Ib8xeKduh9zPaI3oS67T6jZE5fbbi8kzxAdyu09xEPkKcKa-4nGog/s1600/IMG_1947.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNO47ms4GL0_Rek4UJ2ACIEaWrykXJ4rMtn_r8n0ZlnzLDxtvhkQtd9GCqT451ihiMyhrM1kg6KG4loSNDSX_215Ib8xeKduh9zPaI3oS67T6jZE5fbbi8kzxAdyu09xEPkKcKa-4nGog/s400/IMG_1947.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Still more jars to fill... </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At least we won't risk scurvy.... </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjjJU-oHyGAvS5RxW64PTpGIeMfgjGrar0BWQz8WZN-d2Q33bvlx8gvBUbCVXILawZYOMtQfkdlDrMu1tGfBqUi99zbLPrLOLYfsdYwarc1rxPowqCuCuG4oHU2lLjZDokzIr8ycmuoh4/s1600/IMG_1903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjjJU-oHyGAvS5RxW64PTpGIeMfgjGrar0BWQz8WZN-d2Q33bvlx8gvBUbCVXILawZYOMtQfkdlDrMu1tGfBqUi99zbLPrLOLYfsdYwarc1rxPowqCuCuG4oHU2lLjZDokzIr8ycmuoh4/s400/IMG_1903.JPG" width="232" /></a></div>
<br />
I am over the moon with love. I've kissed this face for a week and it has been delicious! What is it about grandbabies that makes one go all mushy?? Suddenly, every bit of my Mother discipline goes out the window -- whoosh!<br />
<br />
Want the keys to the car? Sure! Here's gas money! <br />
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Chocolate for breakfast? Why not? It's a veggie!<br />
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Stay up until 3 a.m.? Wow! You can see the meteor shower!<br />
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Don't want a bath? Okay! You won't rot!<br />
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Good thing she is just six months old... I have a while to come to my senses... <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4pnRHyUIC_i-MieRQA4MTNXM_Ql_C8wdT9s-CelM-ZGyw03m1CldYtwI7OEeeexV89VZcFCFs7UbHTXMCmxt-KC73HTQg5SEzk_yOHKuxDxrMXYmZnqJ5Yf0Paz3V478jEzuRX7Adh0/s1600/IMG_1935.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjI4pnRHyUIC_i-MieRQA4MTNXM_Ql_C8wdT9s-CelM-ZGyw03m1CldYtwI7OEeeexV89VZcFCFs7UbHTXMCmxt-KC73HTQg5SEzk_yOHKuxDxrMXYmZnqJ5Yf0Paz3V478jEzuRX7Adh0/s320/IMG_1935.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
One of my last projects for the summer was the construction of this solar melter. As bee keepers, we end up with a LOT of wax cappings from the supers. When bees have collected the nectar and put the resultant honey in the comb, they fan it with their wings until the water content is Just Right. How they do this is a mystery (isn't it wonderful?), but once it reaches that magic number, they seal it right up and move on. To "spin" the honey, which means to extract it from the foundation, we have to first crack the cap on the cell. All those little bits of wax have precious honey on them which we don't want to waste. We put some back out for the girls, but the rest we have saved with plans to put in the solar melter, thus separating the wax bits from the honey.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV3M1T_MYOgEL_gy88OGBGPJGWHd8uUpH-4KWT5a0OZP_xoLvfbw24_I5utgX-ov-POY2KdHM382dGR_4DECnZBQXwleL-OromtxzpQVncQVI35apccjH728kDeNWIqeCI1v8DxkFGXys/s1600/IMG_1934.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV3M1T_MYOgEL_gy88OGBGPJGWHd8uUpH-4KWT5a0OZP_xoLvfbw24_I5utgX-ov-POY2KdHM382dGR_4DECnZBQXwleL-OromtxzpQVncQVI35apccjH728kDeNWIqeCI1v8DxkFGXys/s320/IMG_1934.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
The solar melter is just what it sounds like -- a passive solar collector which heats up the wax to melting, allowing the honey to run right off while the wax is caught in a netting, dried, and then used for making candles or even right back to the girls to recycle into their new foundation.<br />
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I have been longing for a solar oven, too, but they are just out of my reach. Then, I realized -- this guy has a tin insert, a glass cover, and, by all rights, should operate the same way! I am so excited to see if this will substitute for the oven! I plan on painting it black tomorrow when I get home from my first day of work (only 187 more to go!) and then, over Labor Day, give it a try out. I'll be sure to share my results!<br />
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And, just for the record: I did all the construction. I love building and using power tools, so this was an easy, quick, and very fun project. Anyone, I am convinced, could build this guy! Just do an Internet search for "solar melters" and see what pops up. Let me know if you build one, won't you? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ2D_CodaP_2_wXW79yRFxyPregiQIUxlteNc_85a3LzcjRpWuRBBDwc6hKp5T3hxjF9K3ZuRlNTqGO1JYwQiXtM8pNjPwi8lKds0I1xRIphEuavwm3Fal-TmCY_KWA_L0GQROs0shk2k/s1600/IMG_1930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ2D_CodaP_2_wXW79yRFxyPregiQIUxlteNc_85a3LzcjRpWuRBBDwc6hKp5T3hxjF9K3ZuRlNTqGO1JYwQiXtM8pNjPwi8lKds0I1xRIphEuavwm3Fal-TmCY_KWA_L0GQROs0shk2k/s320/IMG_1930.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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This little bit of sunshine was coming through the front door early this morning, creating a beautiful shadow on the floor. I was enchanted by the detail and play of light and dark and just wanted to share it.<br />
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Beauty is everywhere, isn't it? We just need eyes to see it... Have a wonderful week! <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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This is what's been going on at LZB...<br />
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Lots of canning and putting by for winter... Tomatoes, potatoes, beets, cukes, beef, chicken, broccoli, and cabbage, to list a few... I tried dehydrating tomatoes, mangoes,kiwi, cranberries, cherries, and bananas this year. To be honest, it is brain dead easy putting by and takes such a small amount of space. I caught bananas on sale at Aldi's for 22-cents a pound and couldn't resist putting up enough for banana bread through the winter!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9Mh-UwWsZ92Dso1pZuln5ncU_3msdOYLj0HhOUg5NChwcPBoazD-J1RJotSZ9-Wwi_vjT_AX4VQOD13zB_0u5bBZCmh7t9wZSeEKSmDFvuvS1t7W6e9Hj8QuPv3DXObF6ll0vHM3874/s1600/IMG_1909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk9Mh-UwWsZ92Dso1pZuln5ncU_3msdOYLj0HhOUg5NChwcPBoazD-J1RJotSZ9-Wwi_vjT_AX4VQOD13zB_0u5bBZCmh7t9wZSeEKSmDFvuvS1t7W6e9Hj8QuPv3DXObF6ll0vHM3874/s400/IMG_1909.JPG" width="225" /></a></div>
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Finished all the interior house renovation projects -- all the closets needed painting as well as a complete remodeling. When I first built the closets with my brother 22 years ago, the only shelving available was wire. I have fallen head over hills in love with Ikea's Algot closet shelving system and have redone each closet, including the pantry, with it. The cleanliness and ease of getting things in and out makes keeping house just That Much Easier for me and THAT makes me quite happy! Believe it or not, I was able to match the paint on the right using just this photo! Now, the trim matches in the bathroom! Yay!<br />
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Keeping the farm stock has continued to be a lot of fun and not nearly as challenging now that all the fencing is complete!! This summer I had the last eight acres fenced along the creek bottom to protect the stream bank remediation project we had done over the last two years. Now, we are waiting for the watering systems to be installed since the well is in! Next spring the does will move to the bottom pasture and give their paddocks on the hillside a little rest. Piglets didn't fare well this spring due to the extreme weather conditions. Our supplier lost 14 of 17 piglets overnight due to the extreme cold. We ended up with three of the porkers and one contracted Tetanus from the castration process done before we picked him up. We assumed he had his anti-toxin prior to the castration, but he hadn't. Fortunately, the anti-toxin was administered quickly enough that he not only survived, but is the largest porker in the lot! They go to the processor in November.<br />
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And, of course, there has been needlework. Lots of it! This is a friendship quilt from blocks I received in an exchange. I thought I would love this pink fabric, but when I got it nearly set, I wasn't in love with it... so out it goes and I am working on replacing it with a fantastic lavender, which you know makes me more than happy!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONWju4Q1tqrA4rAqSAF87qmoAfV_9O5P7xymg1IHTbHZZZtacihXKWh5et14JqA11Pvmi7LjkdXiwVDzmUXPRiIGk5yP0N7kAt8U_tOHyWcPGURk4KDz5A4FOPpy-aQM021Y-bJDEjlU/s1600/IMG_1798.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgONWju4Q1tqrA4rAqSAF87qmoAfV_9O5P7xymg1IHTbHZZZtacihXKWh5et14JqA11Pvmi7LjkdXiwVDzmUXPRiIGk5yP0N7kAt8U_tOHyWcPGURk4KDz5A4FOPpy-aQM021Y-bJDEjlU/s400/IMG_1798.JPG" width="225" /></a></div>
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Of course, we done much more, but for now, we'll just say we have been very busy bees... and I have missed writing terribly. The break has done my spirit good and helped my perspective of how I want to continue this blog.<br />
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Welcome back! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpcn47s7fKhzgX-qpqI9s1K0x8IrkwY0QRfLbtFZef07ASUd6BD6dbIzRa3Pg4EYb4_gBz5LvOh89ta8ybuUHeRboN1bh1KN9eMTSMN2iSKkGUHwtmF48S09y602Efuy-b_juaV2L6X8/s1600/sweet+girl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTpcn47s7fKhzgX-qpqI9s1K0x8IrkwY0QRfLbtFZef07ASUd6BD6dbIzRa3Pg4EYb4_gBz5LvOh89ta8ybuUHeRboN1bh1KN9eMTSMN2iSKkGUHwtmF48S09y602Efuy-b_juaV2L6X8/s400/sweet+girl.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">First grandchild!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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When I was expecting my child, a little lady at the nursing home where I was working said to me, "You THINK you know love now, but you will realize how wrong you are when you have your child."<br />
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She was right.<br />
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I probably made my child a sort of religion. I saw everything through those new eyes and enjoyed every minute of showing this amazing person the world.<br />
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Guess what?<br />
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I learned about love again this week. This special person magically came into my life and I am so smitten that I border on stupid. Complete strangers have to admire the pictures of this little one as I declare this is the most perfect child ever created.<br />
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I have it bad.<br />
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Happy Valentine's Day! May someone love you as completely as I do this special star.... <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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Here are just a few of the things I have created this month...<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCYOWMmKsfGshReBE1ZfVbFe6QwSmRu9jGDGhxLhxg8RiU0lt_jy4E5bMweHxQXKgxAo6MDnzCLtCm1jD5WHMhx1V6N30hORzOft7LDEgp-0fhiHJqLpwjeOfxKw9vF0Hr4-LxYpS63M/s1600/001" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCYOWMmKsfGshReBE1ZfVbFe6QwSmRu9jGDGhxLhxg8RiU0lt_jy4E5bMweHxQXKgxAo6MDnzCLtCm1jD5WHMhx1V6N30hORzOft7LDEgp-0fhiHJqLpwjeOfxKw9vF0Hr4-LxYpS63M/s320/001" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A jelly roll quilt..</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoSNORJ0HqkuTSdYc2FJPZh41s3iDbF2IA0WzOrxkwE7BNdCwm9G7t2kE1G7ZOfI_Z0X-fH_Bh9CQMB3MAT_JqUjqiUyKSgEgkHITMXzvODh2eXDMBVwkKaYawRXKrftcoPxp1Tj2hFw/s1600/001" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLoSNORJ0HqkuTSdYc2FJPZh41s3iDbF2IA0WzOrxkwE7BNdCwm9G7t2kE1G7ZOfI_Z0X-fH_Bh9CQMB3MAT_JqUjqiUyKSgEgkHITMXzvODh2eXDMBVwkKaYawRXKrftcoPxp1Tj2hFw/s320/001" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Redwork pillows </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFQkPQ5s6EkzKgcIu0z_tuubkfstPtv0GrT8mfCrFuiyEk0gPNUXg6OvhKebnp3RswpLQpY-cXqmiv4xzuhMQk0poZR7c_HR_QOPrgg9W-UpVEVhQ1dxtmfEFYpBuTek8KsYF48FhJPI/s1600/001" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirFQkPQ5s6EkzKgcIu0z_tuubkfstPtv0GrT8mfCrFuiyEk0gPNUXg6OvhKebnp3RswpLQpY-cXqmiv4xzuhMQk0poZR7c_HR_QOPrgg9W-UpVEVhQ1dxtmfEFYpBuTek8KsYF48FhJPI/s320/001" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cabled knit baby blanket</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkon2VljE1yZexcqw20zGQTdeu_xSfcTC9_HR6QBeju8MEWrSm5TP31Kwn2m6okQhd6sOxH8HbCGM9h1sr6NTNJJ8AaxMn68EcvNUxHjiRDWipn3xx3UpviRDhMrUU0OFLtF2BaG06_k4/s1600/001" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkon2VljE1yZexcqw20zGQTdeu_xSfcTC9_HR6QBeju8MEWrSm5TP31Kwn2m6okQhd6sOxH8HbCGM9h1sr6NTNJJ8AaxMn68EcvNUxHjiRDWipn3xx3UpviRDhMrUU0OFLtF2BaG06_k4/s320/001" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Baby surprise jacket</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqz8VhCOK2DtKY58CauzAVvauzJ37aeRtchyphenhyphen2zpBmrv3QKD_K7IbU0tAVNACsugN8K-h1ktpR41VZACrcZjFhHT1FxEuwAQOAd-bcjzL01rLjaJXMwOew3KiMmmjmk3iWxcfLyPqwnT-0/s1600/001" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqz8VhCOK2DtKY58CauzAVvauzJ37aeRtchyphenhyphen2zpBmrv3QKD_K7IbU0tAVNACsugN8K-h1ktpR41VZACrcZjFhHT1FxEuwAQOAd-bcjzL01rLjaJXMwOew3KiMmmjmk3iWxcfLyPqwnT-0/s320/001" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Easy peasy baby hat</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5wrObpBWoq1lsNgADoC-r-0RRsl8RFQ1mEyLm8JQN8ejJvVdOKeFgrxot8NxVaTm1gJumpVWVwpaQuSPCxKXWiqMC3Zus-MIpR5DPphZA9SIxhgCNjUQ7-aCuw3TWZUzvj6lCCLNfxY/s1600/001" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX5wrObpBWoq1lsNgADoC-r-0RRsl8RFQ1mEyLm8JQN8ejJvVdOKeFgrxot8NxVaTm1gJumpVWVwpaQuSPCxKXWiqMC3Zus-MIpR5DPphZA9SIxhgCNjUQ7-aCuw3TWZUzvj6lCCLNfxY/s320/001" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crochet baby blanket</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Two more baby sweaters and a baby blanket were finished, as well, but I neglected to take a picture before they went to their respective owners.... so frustrating to forget that, isn't it??<br />
<br />
We had quite a bit of snow last week which gave me a few days of making. It was quite delicious to snuggle up with fiber, cats, and tea and just watch the snow as I puttered away. I do think retirement will be easy for me -- when that time comes!<br />
<br />
Are you creating a lot these days? How are you spending these icy cold days? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcn8ztriSx8tj8qum6o2zLTL4jUVewhWqfJ25ic9DCWFSISF7S3Tcfd0R3wTQxz8eQx37Fuab7umn9n2idBOFkTnhSl1v7kH3z3sUXluhEbItO4H_1oHnifGMLxyW4fWgLrhiTn1udx2Q/s1600/IMG_1250.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcn8ztriSx8tj8qum6o2zLTL4jUVewhWqfJ25ic9DCWFSISF7S3Tcfd0R3wTQxz8eQx37Fuab7umn9n2idBOFkTnhSl1v7kH3z3sUXluhEbItO4H_1oHnifGMLxyW4fWgLrhiTn1udx2Q/s320/IMG_1250.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Several years ago, when I was still co-directing the NEH Concord Workshops, I met a very kind and very young nun from the Slaves of the Immaculate Heart of Mary who had become separated from her companion. Sisters are not permitted to be alone in public, so I asked if I could stay with her until she located the missing Sister. She was a teacher and, before long, we had formed a friendship based on literature and our devotion to the Holy Mother (I am not Catholic, btw, but I am quite devoted to the Mother Mary). Sister recommended some books and, her friend being found, we parted company.<br />
<br />
We have remained friends, corresponding occasionally, sharing books and experiences. And, through many "coincidences" things have unfolded in our relationship that speaks to Divine influence and planning. Prayers I asked her for have been answered and resulted in remarkable interconnections in both our worlds that neither of us could have anticipated.<br />
<br />
Our worlds are so very different and, yet, she has contributed to my life in a myriad of ways. I am enriched by her influence and that of her Sisters. And, I have come to understand that her life is just as challenging and interesting as mine. Convent life is no doubt just as real as mine; it isn't sequestered, but, rather, it is rich, full and, even more amazing to me, more useful than I often feel mine is.<br />
<br />
And, what surprises me even more, is that friends can be found anywhere if we are just willing to open our eyes and hearts.<br />
<br />
Merry Christmas, dear ones! <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5JyIfPVBgU1tgXNdOGSkto5SAl0JsFked-m6i69oGUH_IFNAVzj-Dp9Oc64XC0zIjbbXu4nODm_y2Hbgc_TCiHd9UxgU3a2PMqEcyWG4rNYuJh4c9yOfJgQ2NTVxqQKzfcpJXAOJ1x6Y/s1600/001" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5JyIfPVBgU1tgXNdOGSkto5SAl0JsFked-m6i69oGUH_IFNAVzj-Dp9Oc64XC0zIjbbXu4nODm_y2Hbgc_TCiHd9UxgU3a2PMqEcyWG4rNYuJh4c9yOfJgQ2NTVxqQKzfcpJXAOJ1x6Y/s400/001" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> One baby blankie...</span> </div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeN2J10aNhenWUGa9y8UNltKQLylYeZf7TkyRe8psmBzJMIIpiAadsxFbP8ZS9eZCvNqoSnEattxAiCDFPeGkMPnFq7w8fMxLzr6BTFtPkRdV81YKR2kfwNpUnhWMvc4_epDgZRFl2hs/s1600/001" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqeN2J10aNhenWUGa9y8UNltKQLylYeZf7TkyRe8psmBzJMIIpiAadsxFbP8ZS9eZCvNqoSnEattxAiCDFPeGkMPnFq7w8fMxLzr6BTFtPkRdV81YKR2kfwNpUnhWMvc4_epDgZRFl2hs/s400/001" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> Two baby blankie... </span></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfAh3j3pf1YR4SbK6f_Ur42dxkiNGnkt-tzXFHQ-XT-rar2nqyZWPVUc8MUMayvz4TwqpntWkebH4YwE4vt8zpucYZ-7IMP6X1oEscrYTEqUcNEy7TYT7WEY6iBqQh5wBssZbd2JEyeQ8/s1600/001" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfAh3j3pf1YR4SbK6f_Ur42dxkiNGnkt-tzXFHQ-XT-rar2nqyZWPVUc8MUMayvz4TwqpntWkebH4YwE4vt8zpucYZ-7IMP6X1oEscrYTEqUcNEy7TYT7WEY6iBqQh5wBssZbd2JEyeQ8/s400/001" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Three baby blankie...</span> </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Nothing brings me more joy than knitting something warm and snuggely for a new life coming into this sometimes cold and unkind world. I knit love and good wishes into each stitch, thinking of the new life and the potential that is there. And, it seems, these days, I am surrounded by a lot of new life, great potential, coming into this world. I hope they are able to make of this world what my generation seems to have failed at --- kinder, more loving, and gentler... </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV28bxTIB6HKb9-bY2Do3GDHbKJp8-blvywnHmB0Jb6Zc4lbFGH3fHbNfkxrrfAsr01-LorfxiuH9gZ_aY7EEf3YbJaylz9qysv_CGvbD0rARNfHeaDhXMIJltb8a5zqlkRey1odWeCss/s1600/001" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV28bxTIB6HKb9-bY2Do3GDHbKJp8-blvywnHmB0Jb6Zc4lbFGH3fHbNfkxrrfAsr01-LorfxiuH9gZ_aY7EEf3YbJaylz9qysv_CGvbD0rARNfHeaDhXMIJltb8a5zqlkRey1odWeCss/s400/001" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And stars to dream by... </span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">What is beautiful in your world? </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2K33rbEPfzpVVMPVPv6P7gWSQLyzQ8OwPTvL2IRKsbFyq2w_ZgL6cgtYyk3enDJoZnF75DOu6L6ze3g6E4hhpSVOBj0QohLIKFGK9TNgpoffHsc8wjMpgoZ0gveAxA6wu6we0BCvYm8/s1600/pork+wagon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ2K33rbEPfzpVVMPVPv6P7gWSQLyzQ8OwPTvL2IRKsbFyq2w_ZgL6cgtYyk3enDJoZnF75DOu6L6ze3g6E4hhpSVOBj0QohLIKFGK9TNgpoffHsc8wjMpgoZ0gveAxA6wu6we0BCvYm8/s640/pork+wagon.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Six hundred pounds of pork...</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
If laughter is the best medicine, I should be the healthiest person you know...<br />
<br />
Today, we delivered our pork. We had 600 pounds to deliver and 2 friends were picking up theirs from the processor at the same time we were. A short time later, my phone rang:<br />
<br />
C: I have a head.<br />
Me: A head? What kind?<br />
C: A pig head.<br />
Me: They were picked up by G and T to make souse meat. How do you have a head?<br />
C: I don't know. But I have it. BTW, I wish had a picture of me when I opened the bag. I was okay until I turned it around and saw the snout.<br />
<br />
By this time I was a puddle.....<br />
<br />
A bit later, the phone rang again. <br />
<br />
C: Are you coming to get this, um, this, um thing in my car?<br />
Me: The pig's head? Yup. I'll be there in a bit.<br />
C: It's in a cooler; will it be okay?<br />
Me: I don't think it will go anywhere. If it's cool, it'll be fine.<br />
C: I can put it in the dumpster....<br />
Me: I'll be there in a bit. G and T want it...<br />
<br />
Again, I was a puddle... It wasn't that she was so funny, but the background music in my car was killing me.... Mister kept whistling the theme from "The Godfather..."<br />
<br />
And, so, it goes... <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXkGpS3ZkX12gOBQ07Wcf7bTPTA0ZuLudXrWDf1sOB3v7kNg_LGi2DrhvsuegPNnKsnxlE0pOpUUNYB80a7WisLrRKLt0olLQtjcjA7WqF02N7HtDaJwQ8daQsYBvZ1zEHJRuDebtqAk/s1600/IMG_1048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIXkGpS3ZkX12gOBQ07Wcf7bTPTA0ZuLudXrWDf1sOB3v7kNg_LGi2DrhvsuegPNnKsnxlE0pOpUUNYB80a7WisLrRKLt0olLQtjcjA7WqF02N7HtDaJwQ8daQsYBvZ1zEHJRuDebtqAk/s400/IMG_1048.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">July</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Joyfully, the pigs are headed to the processor tomorrow and will return in lovely vacuum sealed bags for the freezer. Frankly, I am tired of carrying food to the, er, pigs... It is true that they do... Eat. A. Lot. All. The. Time. We are up to nearly 75 pounds of food per day... It's exhausting! </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">These porkers came to us in April and weighed all of 35 pounds. Now, we estimate they are close to 300-350 pounds. They are so large that we could barely get the trailer ball on the truck without both of us pumping the lift.. Now that is Some Pig. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Three are sold, on hoof, to friends who will pay for the pig once it is dressed, but not finished, by weight. Then, they will pay for the processing and pick it up. One is ours that we will split with my parents. And, the last will be shared between a number of relatives, and, I hope, some left over for us. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Pork is one of those things that if you haven't ever had pasture raised, you have been cheated from savoring a flavor without description. The stuff that comes from the grocery pales in comparison. Our porkers play in the mud, stretch in the sun, dig holes and wallow in the water, root and eat grubs, and have non-GMO feed for their entire life. We tell them from the beginning of our relationship what their fate is and that we want them to enjoy a fine, wonderful life. We scratch them, hose them, and chase them (or they chase us) in a game of tag. I gather apples for them and find them scraps, such as corn cobs when I can corn, so they have treats. They really have a marvelous life. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once they are loaded on the trailer, which we do gently and not with a prod or anything that will hurt them, we feed them corn one more time and tell them how we honor them for providing us with good meat for the coming year. We thank them for being sweet piggies and for the pleasure we have had with them. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This past fall, when it had rained for eleven straight days and Mister was out of commission with a neck injury, I was out feeding them. Their lot was slick as goose grease and I was having trouble walking with their feed bags (they weigh 50 pounds). One pig got on my right and another mirrored that one on the left... and they started scratching their backs on me... until I slipped in the mud and fell flat on my face... and they continued scratching until I got up... I was mudlicious from left to right, top to bottom... and had to hose off in the yard... If I could have stopped laughing, I would have been annoyed... but somehow, the visualization of a 60 year old woman being scrubbed by pigs cracked me up... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And, you ask, after loving on them, playing with them, and enjoying them, how, how can we eat them? Easy. We name them Pork Chop, Tenderloin, Sausage, Ham, and Roast.... </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8M-ubfBnBIOq2eRfbwegN2qsK8kxqCKwPwGEJd2LP6Vji4E4TwYF__PshQFG2dq3L1TVRobhxj6s6Wbx-vWL-R3zKv7RlDxV-1kZil6nUXU2wfFKqzrkp33F0Gi3etH4sX7s6vweAdHo/s1600/twilight+mountains.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8M-ubfBnBIOq2eRfbwegN2qsK8kxqCKwPwGEJd2LP6Vji4E4TwYF__PshQFG2dq3L1TVRobhxj6s6Wbx-vWL-R3zKv7RlDxV-1kZil6nUXU2wfFKqzrkp33F0Gi3etH4sX7s6vweAdHo/s640/twilight+mountains.jpg" width="360" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">November Twilight. The world's most perfect light...</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"></span></span><div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span>"Make you the world a bit better or more</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">beautiful because you have lived in it."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Edward Bok </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUB0PbOnYSZuwUPB-zuVTcIwFb5h3uqZDUtC594hSXn32rtpRg4V0H0v-unsjMCqNwzMmHKcFBsY_mitPbHknX3hU6cQ3y2-3BUSy5EKyPod-nd6cL6P_PJRKroWQcg_p1cLSwB_CwJug/s1600/Bok+tower.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUB0PbOnYSZuwUPB-zuVTcIwFb5h3uqZDUtC594hSXn32rtpRg4V0H0v-unsjMCqNwzMmHKcFBsY_mitPbHknX3hU6cQ3y2-3BUSy5EKyPod-nd6cL6P_PJRKroWQcg_p1cLSwB_CwJug/s400/Bok+tower.JPG" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Bok Tower, Lake Wales, Florida</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Perhaps... just perhaps... we should focus on this? </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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People wish to be settled.</div>
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It is only as far as they are unsettled that there is any hope for them. </div>
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Ralph Waldo Emerson</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5JdQ98E-s0AWvQWIMeGE8V4Vw76pdRitOZxNGAdcx8H3BprWQGDO7aD0Mhm18OeqCLQ7Zy5Dv8KU4mL_EbDQCQQTYSO9vwfOAZTxKGztmjR2PQhlmNCHKbKnwKGa_W5UyflQmelIKVX4/s1600/IMG_1169.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5JdQ98E-s0AWvQWIMeGE8V4Vw76pdRitOZxNGAdcx8H3BprWQGDO7aD0Mhm18OeqCLQ7Zy5Dv8KU4mL_EbDQCQQTYSO9vwfOAZTxKGztmjR2PQhlmNCHKbKnwKGa_W5UyflQmelIKVX4/s400/IMG_1169.JPG" width="225" /></a></div>
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The cost of a thing is the amount of what I will call life</div>
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which is required to be exchanged for it, immediately or in the long run.</div>
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Henry David Thoreau, <i>Walden</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20JodCH8g4WG1t9Bdbzuq5BS6pUd2kJPj-XhGlTnK_pTaYe6EtQf11zI_UDq86yJtCUbP-pYvJD-t0DqADO49f_XrmA2HvjT42FJWtlgCiVZAM04qUbEOY6Vr85rTNZdX2EUR8S2IIx8/s1600/IMG_1074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh20JodCH8g4WG1t9Bdbzuq5BS6pUd2kJPj-XhGlTnK_pTaYe6EtQf11zI_UDq86yJtCUbP-pYvJD-t0DqADO49f_XrmA2HvjT42FJWtlgCiVZAM04qUbEOY6Vr85rTNZdX2EUR8S2IIx8/s400/IMG_1074.JPG" width="400" /> </a></div>
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Tell me, </div>
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what is it you plan to do</div>
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with your one wild, precious life? </div>
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Mary Oliver</div>
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We are born to fulfill a role in this world and then, hopefully, leave the world better than it was before we took our few precious breaths and then departed. Sometimes, we are thrust into these roles; sometimes, we fail to listen to our heart; and, sometimes, we flow with the river around us because it demands so little. </div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">But the day comes when, as Mary Oliver writes in "The Journey": </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">One day you finally knew</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">what you had to do, and began,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">though the voices around you</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">kept shouting</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">their bad advice--</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">though the whole house</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">began to tremble</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">and you felt the old tug</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">at your ankles.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">"Mend my life!"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">each voice cried.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">But you didn't stop.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">You knew what you had to do,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">though the wind pried</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">with its stiff fingers</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">at the very foundations,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">though their melancholy</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">was terrible.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">It was already late</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">enough, and a wild night,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">and the road full of fallen</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">branches and stones.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">But little by little,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">as you left their voices behind,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">the stars began to burn</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">through the sheets of clouds,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">and there was a new voice</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">which you slowly</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">recognized as your own,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">that kept you company</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">as you strode deeper and deeper</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">into the world,</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">determined to do</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">the only thing you could do--</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">determined to save</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Times,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span class="size12" style="font-size: small;">the only life you could save.</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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As for me, I am looking for the stars... What about you? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBJPEegy2AZiNlGnhT0tLMqjZcv6M_3_kywtwn6TYPZK2yekbGTbRlpOkxE6h2Hd6LuGw96n1vuATk7nJ51z-NbMq3TxowyVim2oa-LQ41pQpDSWIMp-T3AsSjExC92BrvED1Yz9D-_Y/s1600/IMG_1117.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTBJPEegy2AZiNlGnhT0tLMqjZcv6M_3_kywtwn6TYPZK2yekbGTbRlpOkxE6h2Hd6LuGw96n1vuATk7nJ51z-NbMq3TxowyVim2oa-LQ41pQpDSWIMp-T3AsSjExC92BrvED1Yz9D-_Y/s320/IMG_1117.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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This old white cabinet is a knock off of the antique version. I bought this over 20 years ago because, at the time, I couldn't afford the real deal, but this gave me the feel I wanted. It has lived in the barn for quite a while, but, I decided I wanted to make it a TV cabinet for temporary use. So, Mister and I took the glass doors from the top and put them on the bottom, removed the bottom solid doors, and removed all the upper shelves. I patched her up, sanded her, added some wood trim, and got her ready to paint.<br />
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I started by searching through my Annie Sloan Chalk Paints to see what I had enough of to mix to create the colours I wanted. I love purple, so I knew the drawers' interiors would have to be purple. What a nice surprise to open them and see that lovely color! I mixed Old White with Henrietta to get the tone I wanted. Then, I wanted the cabinet itself to be a soft yellow, so I mixed Old White with Gold until I got the soft, butter colour I envisioned. And, last, the inside had to be black to hide the TV when it was off and to show off the quilts that I wanted to store in the base.<br />
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Then, I gently mixed a little of the dark and clear wax and gave her a good rub down... I was so happy with her...<br />
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For now, this is making me happy. And, I especially like that I have reused and reinvented something for short term use.<br />
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How do you recycle or reinvent? <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwX7k4iYzz_LsV0cJMwp5ONxbU4yeXkBS0_JEBfqGyjHgXS2CaMepSOJ6LRKnif1UwYZjZ0i506Mlaxq53oyyGGIHOhUywGSubQ3KR2gboA__qIZX1llwe5VFQyWEsUmFY8oCUXIQFNAQ/s1600/IMG_1262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwX7k4iYzz_LsV0cJMwp5ONxbU4yeXkBS0_JEBfqGyjHgXS2CaMepSOJ6LRKnif1UwYZjZ0i506Mlaxq53oyyGGIHOhUywGSubQ3KR2gboA__qIZX1llwe5VFQyWEsUmFY8oCUXIQFNAQ/s400/IMG_1262.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYI7GpJ3B6OqlmbZ1XIsvpsSmFiwbK9GOYGz4zDEzZBlyVZC7cyzHpVsnwB2mncK9ewhcgZqvuiIZwcW2k0vIKsJLFnKN2hdZmexCBX_XP3F4sGu6asN2kspNx6T_rTr0mRu9heEDAWJg/s1600/IMG_1267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>This little house sits on the hill above the New River in Mouth of Wilson. It is where my family spent every summer, swimming, playing, fishing, jumping from the porch, and watching the night lights. I had my worst case of poison ivy Ever In the History Of the World here after I fell from my bike smack into the midst of a poison ivy bed. We worked puzzles, tons of puzzles, under the downstairs porch.<br />
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Long before this rail was installed, my siblings and I would take a run-and-go from the second story and fling ourselves into the open space, hoping to fly, and land with a THUD! right by my Mother's feet as she sat downstairs reading, napping, or working her puzzles. No doubt she stayed a nervous wreck, but we had a terrific time sailing to the ground and sinking to our ankles in the soft ground below.<br />
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We slept on the porch, in sleeping bags, waking up wet from dew, with the morning sun dazzling on the river below. Mother would have coffee perking, biscuits in the oven, and fresh fish frying. We caught them in the evening and put them in the holding pool next to the kitchen for our morning nosh. Then, we would rush upstairs, throw on bathing suits (was there really a time I wasn't self-conscious enough I'd wear one all day?), and hop on our bikes to ride the dirt road to the "waterfall" to play. Scabs covered our knees (I wasn't graceful, after all) and we smelled of sunshine, water, and dirt. Pure health....<br />
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The "bathroom" consisted of a small toilet and sink. We bathed, even though we spent the day in the water, in a wash tub. I was first, so the water was cleanest then. By the time my baby sister got in, the water would be nearly as muddy as the dusty holes in the dirt road. The nights would be cool and we'd run to jump in our sleeping bags, ready to watch the stars, speculate about space men, and build our castles in the air.<br />
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The kitchen had an enormous rock in the middle that the original builders couldn't get out of the door, so we had to walk around it to get to the refrigerator. The wiring was DC, so we had a rubber mat in front of the fridge to avoid the pending shock from touching the door and grounding ourselves. If one were angry with a certain, a-hem, brother, she would step from the mat, touch the brother, and then the door. Instant revenge! <br />
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Below, the river would continue her centuries old song, lulling us to sleep. She sang of Scot-Irish who traveled this river to "discover" the "Natives" who had lived here for millennia. She sang of floods and droughts and log canoes. She sang of her journey north, as the New River is one of two rivers in the world that flows northward. Today, she is a protected River, a "national treasure." But, to a handful of small children, she was the world. Our days revolved around her -- both in and out.<br />
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I miss those days. I miss the innocence and I miss the shocking blue sky. I miss wearing my bathing suit all day. And, I miss gathering berries, nuts, creek lettuce, and catching fish for our dinner. Most of all, I miss the swinger of trees and catcher of fireflies that I was. When do we grow old? One day at a time or just all at once?? Yet, when I go to the river, I am young again...at least for a moment.... <br />
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Then, we talked.<br />
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In short, her husband, who works out of state and is home a grand total of four days a month, has decided that she needs to be more present for him and their three children -- one who is in college, a senior in high school, and a six-year-old who has discovered that acting out earns everyone's attention. She disclosed that her husband came home to inspect the house and found anything that wasn't clean and scolded her. He refuses to tell her their income, except that it is "over $100,000", and, he believes she isn't giving him enough attention the four days a month he is home. She wept harder and harder as she told me this.<br />
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"But," she said, "I have such a heart for helping people. I take care of everyone and everything. He sleeps, eats, and wants sex when he is home. He doesn't pay any attention to the children. And, he pays me a salary for being home."<br />
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At this point, I wanted to shake her and scream, "Why are you doing this?? What about your desires? Your dreams? Your gifts?"<br />
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She's a straight A student in nursing. Holy cow.<br />
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One day, I fear, she will wake up to find he has found "his soul" with a woman half his age. She will have no skills, not experience, nothing.<br />
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I wanted to tell her that education is power. It is freedom. Choice. Control of one's life. Opportunity. A chance to make a difference in her children's lives by modeling how to pursue a dream and achieve a goal. She is showing her daughters how to stand on their own two feet. How she is becoming an adult instead of her husband's child, maid, housekeeper, and baby maker.<br />
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Instead, I patted her arm and told her that she had to do what would give her peace.<br />
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She filled out the form. And left. I was shattered.... for her, her children, and even her bully husband. A chance to grow and learn was lost.<br />
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<em>If you educate a man you educate an individual, but if you educate a woman you educate a family (nation). -- </em>Dr. James Emmanuel Kwegyir-Aggrey<div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<i>Papa Fransisco! Papa Fransisco! </i></div>
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What an amazing event! All things magically fell into place for me to see my loved one and to win a ticket to see "Papa Fransisco!" when he spoke at Independence Hall. The love, peace, and joy were overwhelming! I loved hearing the crowd chant for "Papa Fransisco!" as he rode past in the Pope Mobile, waving, smiling, and blessing them as he passed. I was close enough to the podium that I could see His Holiness AND read the translation on the 40-foot screen as he spoke. Fortunately, I speak enough Spanish that I could follow most of his speech, but it was nice to have the translation at times! </div>
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Philadelphia is such a lovely city. The people were generous, kind, and helpful.... and the city, gulp, the city took my breath away! Here's a few of the sights that took my breath! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>A Circular Rainbow appeared as I was going through the third security check point. </i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD2QeP06uRtFXvVF6TcDWX_6a1THi7JsrWFfhUOW9TRsVb7ksjVDrxYT1dL-F0FUs752DlSaMX6aXE31otFlxJgC_pZP_5LmLn-9A-DCjm51DlrVJr8LhxYjYj9Zb1a0NkWx8Oj179wsQ/s1600/IMG_1214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD2QeP06uRtFXvVF6TcDWX_6a1THi7JsrWFfhUOW9TRsVb7ksjVDrxYT1dL-F0FUs752DlSaMX6aXE31otFlxJgC_pZP_5LmLn-9A-DCjm51DlrVJr8LhxYjYj9Zb1a0NkWx8Oj179wsQ/s400/IMG_1214.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Cakes! The one on the right has a fondant icing for the miter and the painting is icing. </i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm07jbm2QUOwFp8Gge6rSNgxlxiFzitCZmgI4MroniSZ0ybol_FhwDqHmNhxhAnXgSh_qk4Up5RNpBBl3cNEEPV6tzWiJgmMs8kADP63yIvaUhr-cicDfUBfaMxHzVnNWKuFKlCnexlmg/s1600/IMG_1202.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm07jbm2QUOwFp8Gge6rSNgxlxiFzitCZmgI4MroniSZ0ybol_FhwDqHmNhxhAnXgSh_qk4Up5RNpBBl3cNEEPV6tzWiJgmMs8kADP63yIvaUhr-cicDfUBfaMxHzVnNWKuFKlCnexlmg/s400/IMG_1202.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The Holy Mother at the Shrine of Mary's Miraculous Medal. I love the Holy Mother and wept. </i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvNK9whzL3nR2dGlGRJXgmQxQt3Xj7eepDHvxdSBpLvK_687tQwRQAcPSPi_srL_H6RTurhkApk8CN7-14bArAj6ffHNus78jU1HXTNpY87JSyvqm5aFmu4MjQnyXfJJYDW-PkbPcaD7o/s1600/IMG_1203.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvNK9whzL3nR2dGlGRJXgmQxQt3Xj7eepDHvxdSBpLvK_687tQwRQAcPSPi_srL_H6RTurhkApk8CN7-14bArAj6ffHNus78jU1HXTNpY87JSyvqm5aFmu4MjQnyXfJJYDW-PkbPcaD7o/s400/IMG_1203.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Another grotto at the Shrine of Mary's Miraculous Medal. I counted around 16 grottoes in the cathedral.</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrfcBCwwa0jpPQNHGMftHmOUp5Qhn2fPfKq47Fm8kuRuJ1IDyQxr-GHzJKj5gmPzvUN-s-KdmJUWm-gUkBDpShYhhdssVJqkkeqn5oSVmQEcCG6uHOAS8LXOztm24HhBmUJ31xrqxW1Q/s1600/IMG_1195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwrfcBCwwa0jpPQNHGMftHmOUp5Qhn2fPfKq47Fm8kuRuJ1IDyQxr-GHzJKj5gmPzvUN-s-KdmJUWm-gUkBDpShYhhdssVJqkkeqn5oSVmQEcCG6uHOAS8LXOztm24HhBmUJ31xrqxW1Q/s400/IMG_1195.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>On the left background is the Cathedral where the Pope held mass; the back right is the City Hall. </i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Quilt, handpieced, at the Arch Street Friend's Meeting. It was stunning!</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>I would have liked to have known this guy! Safecracker? Awesome!</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Ben and I were sharing a moment.. He wouldn't let me sit in his lap -- gout...</i></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9CSg3xwEwvsrQaQhyOnVSN1-1elA9_Tiay_7TqWujQUk4he_p0BbNIG3vzcZU3B89gr_uB4E3K4pZazeXo8CYZa9A0TqWKMfW6g-U2qxEBiAno_Fwwm-ahLKlL8KgfwZxX8inGQkotQ/s1600/IMG_1176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv9CSg3xwEwvsrQaQhyOnVSN1-1elA9_Tiay_7TqWujQUk4he_p0BbNIG3vzcZU3B89gr_uB4E3K4pZazeXo8CYZa9A0TqWKMfW6g-U2qxEBiAno_Fwwm-ahLKlL8KgfwZxX8inGQkotQ/s400/IMG_1176.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Preparations for the Independence Hall event... I was standing under the tree on the far right...</i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And.... the one photo that sums up the "Phillie Woodstock" for me... </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgug3OVZ7Sx0fPPZmRTQXRSL7Tkwg4ibMbu9mP6FstdjuvPWnTU5VEAzsc2LzmzuRiT5oDDrJfR-xZiNsKNxrghuruIZkD9eIh3kxeKYjT5_MnztW5riY-55gZX_5FMLshPXRItQcTyhgU/s1600/IMG_1234.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgug3OVZ7Sx0fPPZmRTQXRSL7Tkwg4ibMbu9mP6FstdjuvPWnTU5VEAzsc2LzmzuRiT5oDDrJfR-xZiNsKNxrghuruIZkD9eIh3kxeKYjT5_MnztW5riY-55gZX_5FMLshPXRItQcTyhgU/s640/IMG_1234.JPG" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Yup. He was going "nature boy" and waiting on "the man"! </i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br />
That feeling is gone. <br />
<br />
Now, lest you think I am wallowing in self-pity, I am not. Okay. Maybe a little. But, more than that, I am thinking about why the anticipation has been replaced by dread. <br />
<br />
It comes to this. <br />
<br />
Education has become a one size fits all. Instead of decisions being student driven, it is motivated by funding, government rules, or political beliefs. It has become a forum for making "everyone feel good about themselves" rather than challenging one to grow beyond their comfort level. It has become yet another forum for pop psychology instead of one of standards and the recognition that we need garbage collectors AND doctors. (Frankly, I adore my garbage collector every week; my doctor, well, a few times a year. Both have their place and role. One is not better than another, yet, in academia, there is a snobbery that the garbage collector has unrecognized potential and should aspire to more.) This is yet another reason the passion is gone; the failure to acknowledge that there are limits to ability and that some folks, to be honest, just aren't college material. And, by the way, that is perfectly okay. <br />
<br />
Reporting - completers, retention, financial aid, assessment, recruiting -- are just a few of the ways an institution can spend time looking at itself and find ways to self-aggrandize as well as a way to avoid confronting the real issues -- academic freedom, academic standards, not to mention faculty salary and professional standards. Those instructors who are most popular carry teaching loads twice their colleagues, yet those colleagues remain mediocre because they tick the right boxes politically or through their academic rhetoric. There doesn't have to be substance, just compliance. <br />
<br />
The jargon, the philosophies are more important than the ability to effectively meet a student where they are and lift them. Gatekeepers to programs or student goals impede success rather than inspire it. No one can say what power human desire and motivation can have over a low placement score or underdeveloped critical thinking skills. This hamstringing of weaker students destroys potential and, ultimately, deprives society of perhaps the next Einstein or Emerson. Neither were stellar students either, by the way. <br />
<br />
And, so, here I am, one day from reentering a world that I feel I no longer belong, in which I feel I am a minority. I want to teach and be left alone by all the outside distractions. I want to spend this first week back on campus meeting with students, working on lesson plans, building enthusiasm for my content. I want to have my time respected. I want to feel appreciated, necessary, in a meaningful manner rather than spending my time checking the box for seeing so-and-so video or attending such-and-such meeting.<br />
<br />
Teachers have a saying that, "what really matters is what happens when you close the door to your classroom." I am trying to hold on to this thought, this belief. I feel what a drowning person must feel. I gasp the air, hold my breath, and push up again. <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<br /><span class="entity _4v1s" data-fulltext="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-type="ent:group" data-uid="376519925791882"></span><span data-si="true"></span>
10. Break the ice. Go ahead and drop the open paint can. On the carpet. Without paper towels handy.<br />
<br /><span class="entity _4v1s" data-fulltext="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-type="ent:group" data-uid="376519925791882"></span><span data-si="true"></span>
9. If there is still a little ice to break, step back into the paint tray. It is always good for a laugh.<br />
<br /><span class="entity _4v1s" data-fulltext="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-type="ent:group" data-uid="376519925791882"></span><span data-si="true"></span>
8. Make sure one ladder is only five feet tall. That makes reaching the nine-foot ceilings even more interesting as well as a great work out for your abs and shoulders!<br />
<br /><span class="entity _4v1s" data-fulltext="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-type="ent:group" data-uid="376519925791882"></span><span data-si="true"></span>
7. When painting the kitchen, walk on the counter tops, moving the ladder along with you. Then, when the ladder tips over, you can enjoy the challenge of dismounting without spilling your paint. Again.<br />
<br /><span class="entity _4v1s" data-fulltext="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-type="ent:group" data-uid="376519925791882"></span><span data-si="true"></span>
6. Always start by painting the closet trim. That way, when you back out, you can back into the trim and have a lovely white stripe on your backside. But, don't worry. It will match the white spill down the front where you dismounted from the kitchen counter.<br />
<br /><span class="entity _4v1s" data-fulltext="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-type="ent:group" data-uid="376519925791882"></span><span data-si="true"></span>
5. Never select your own painting tools. That way you will have the pleasure to spending a day with a roller on an extension handle that spins every time you start to roll the ceiling OR put paint on the roller. Now, your hair will match your shirt and paints.<br />
<br /><span class="entity _4v1s" data-fulltext="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-group="all" data-icon="null" data-select="group" data-si="true" data-text="Lain Modest Apostolic Clothing" data-type="ent:group" data-uid="376519925791882"></span><span data-si="true"></span>
4. When working as a team, be sure to avoid any communication of what each of you are painting. That way, when you finish washing your brushes for the day, you can enjoy the discovery that you each thought the other was painting the attic access. Yay! One more time up the short ladder!<br />
<br />
3. If you sing together, be sure to know who can carry a tune. That way, when you are belting out "Bohemian Rhapsody" and the less talented singer falsetto's into "Let me go!" , you won't be caught with your arm over your head when you burst into laughter nearly slinging yourself into the floor with the paint. Again.<br />
<br />
2. Always turn your shirt wrong side out when driving home. After all, you have dismounted a counter top, stepped in paint, dropped a paint can, and backed into wet trim. You don't want to get paint on your car.<br />
<br />
And, my personal favorite...<br />
<br />
1. When stopping at the grocery store on the way home, shirt wrong side out, paint on most of your body be prepared for the, "Are you painting?" question with a witty response, "No, I was painting my toenails and got a little carried away."<br />
<br />
Don't you wish you were me? <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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<br />
So, I decided I needed to clear my thoughts by taking a walk and being mindful. As Thich Nhat Hanh said:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Fear keeps us focused on the past or
worried about the future.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
If we can acknowledge our fear,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
we can realize
that right now we are okay.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Right now, today,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
we are still alive,</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
and
our bodies are working marvelously.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Our eyes can still see the beautiful
sky.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Our ears can still hear the voices of our loved ones.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
And the miracles I saw changed my whole outlook... </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOuomT8SFi2r2BP4iCLViBJkXZwS2aZyMKqbtKACNgQfTJj2L_I2BEh358OtMj8y5BOt_pIAKq7tXOVHYCWC2JNqCR9GORiyLze-i1H9VegtvEcpHL9GW2GAkQk5R1abl1sirzUMsOK4c/s1600/IMG_1101.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOuomT8SFi2r2BP4iCLViBJkXZwS2aZyMKqbtKACNgQfTJj2L_I2BEh358OtMj8y5BOt_pIAKq7tXOVHYCWC2JNqCR9GORiyLze-i1H9VegtvEcpHL9GW2GAkQk5R1abl1sirzUMsOK4c/s400/IMG_1101.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deer Trail Down the Bank..</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_-Ani0MR8wR0ibYOFl_5xrl1sFt1vsbmDC5vFeFsNjIM00Vib_Ga74PeZsctioZIXnsGrVUREhb8tw6EAs3V6EAFjwx3oZVBFUOYUjqTU_UdcHBunrllthKUfr9pOnDXJ7Bwpq3USV8/s1600/IMG_1100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP_-Ani0MR8wR0ibYOFl_5xrl1sFt1vsbmDC5vFeFsNjIM00Vib_Ga74PeZsctioZIXnsGrVUREhb8tw6EAs3V6EAFjwx3oZVBFUOYUjqTU_UdcHBunrllthKUfr9pOnDXJ7Bwpq3USV8/s400/IMG_1100.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Joe Pye Weed. I saw this as a specimen in New England. Here, it is a weed!</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtApyciuZpTEUn2PuDg_DxbV63w3HDA6WYdTGk1Yukc28Rk9AtzABnmfQ8JCSNgeZO7d0d-nNkQui4cue5pcEB_-WdLdkSURGhsnPJHVbT6orx3TtA9d7KEGuJo0JshyphenhyphenJ-JSp1ArSWSs/s1600/IMG_1098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqtApyciuZpTEUn2PuDg_DxbV63w3HDA6WYdTGk1Yukc28Rk9AtzABnmfQ8JCSNgeZO7d0d-nNkQui4cue5pcEB_-WdLdkSURGhsnPJHVbT6orx3TtA9d7KEGuJo0JshyphenhyphenJ-JSp1ArSWSs/s400/IMG_1098.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A bird's nest, empty, blown from a tree. I collect them. What a gift! </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2EzZrWv6K9CLvHMoiTYPCF7EPu5J0j2E7Q-7D6zL7roAKvruH3QXgEgL6UQcUJ4XK3y-mhCDRkqY7dySJMKbxgUe4cExXgyXcU_UGxMS3k876Hvm12n3EpEDp43MI0ufxPRsfxnDOYdI/s1600/IMG_1096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2EzZrWv6K9CLvHMoiTYPCF7EPu5J0j2E7Q-7D6zL7roAKvruH3QXgEgL6UQcUJ4XK3y-mhCDRkqY7dySJMKbxgUe4cExXgyXcU_UGxMS3k876Hvm12n3EpEDp43MI0ufxPRsfxnDOYdI/s400/IMG_1096.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This lovely let me photograph it and then flew above my head as I walked. Angel? </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
By the time I arrived back home, my spirit was quiet, my legs tired, a gentle moisture from the rain on my face. I was alive. My body worked. All is well.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="copy-paste-block">
<span><br /></span></div>
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</div>
This week we are busy getting farm chores done. While it is hard to think about winter when it is 88-degrees, we know it is coming and we have to be ready.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWziRMiXam1zwaK942fJg-IFaicFdmtfAqFm_rXy3QOzGyJ770ZmnN19stIgm_YpTWctoUS2vKCBlO1mGtT_7FFVmUFr-u1R_MaLgRW71eiYLDY1srWA-jJlH1ne4IToTLfjOspq6fw_M/s1600/IMG_1068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWziRMiXam1zwaK942fJg-IFaicFdmtfAqFm_rXy3QOzGyJ770ZmnN19stIgm_YpTWctoUS2vKCBlO1mGtT_7FFVmUFr-u1R_MaLgRW71eiYLDY1srWA-jJlH1ne4IToTLfjOspq6fw_M/s400/IMG_1068.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The girls inspect limbs that will become kindling for the wood stove. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WkqhHSxWzujcqkcZSIzNd2ytvHvlmm0Vw0wLirVVxpokz4p_OnrhookNy0u72ppLCeeaEecKtMMZ9ul-AfMWUMAXPv_94iBG_vX1g7wuCWSCwsftyQZvEiGc55LZWNeXppBjXtJHapM/s1600/IMG_1075.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_WkqhHSxWzujcqkcZSIzNd2ytvHvlmm0Vw0wLirVVxpokz4p_OnrhookNy0u72ppLCeeaEecKtMMZ9ul-AfMWUMAXPv_94iBG_vX1g7wuCWSCwsftyQZvEiGc55LZWNeXppBjXtJHapM/s400/IMG_1075.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dead apple trees make the most wonderful smelling firewood!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1oirkvfpeP-vCkUhwMXSNOUrWX7f73GAHSM2EgU0hcuYmS2peym22631eRyEVN5xqHwgSQni4IWcIlWUiDiw_nHwjXDy1BvllUI3GX7pY1K5TZdY3by4M6xxATJJdJePn7d3xw_patMk/s1600/IMG_1071.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1oirkvfpeP-vCkUhwMXSNOUrWX7f73GAHSM2EgU0hcuYmS2peym22631eRyEVN5xqHwgSQni4IWcIlWUiDiw_nHwjXDy1BvllUI3GX7pY1K5TZdY3by4M6xxATJJdJePn7d3xw_patMk/s400/IMG_1071.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mister working on a pine.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqeWo7wlXH9X-5Bk9F3lCjAUE1sPqPFxHCYJhGiRpVudu5rHtFc_BqATKW5hP-tqqHkthsdOcPZkhbVUTH_YNUL0yUyjXo5_tk08UPUU9cGpHx2f4mF_gMfTaHOx6BAOqvUf9v1gZ_Y0/s1600/IMG_1080.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjqeWo7wlXH9X-5Bk9F3lCjAUE1sPqPFxHCYJhGiRpVudu5rHtFc_BqATKW5hP-tqqHkthsdOcPZkhbVUTH_YNUL0yUyjXo5_tk08UPUU9cGpHx2f4mF_gMfTaHOx6BAOqvUf9v1gZ_Y0/s400/IMG_1080.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thoreau was right; wood does warm one twice!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZONIkKASpeDONuKsNXe_gSnAMpnI2hNhyphenhyphenwPGuNKVv7UDxq3yvbWt3J520mhr1rqmSjh63SaGl0dKE7O1ShZ6INQ2ecLzcrk4wViXg0jOvBktzuePTwahGtSCUlj3gs1MGVa28PnrJn88/s1600/IMG_1074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZONIkKASpeDONuKsNXe_gSnAMpnI2hNhyphenhyphenwPGuNKVv7UDxq3yvbWt3J520mhr1rqmSjh63SaGl0dKE7O1ShZ6INQ2ecLzcrk4wViXg0jOvBktzuePTwahGtSCUlj3gs1MGVa28PnrJn88/s400/IMG_1074.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't let the sky fool you; it was blistering hot!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNQ5FV-nWLn6THGEr_Rm77NRoSHtPdCk6s-otMvvw8aVCDgSD-mdy2nYnrz_QLHgG0eYs_wdyXzRV7DXyOIyPtHSzWH3Ej_sKi08wd-zbSdbU9SPW_D9Par6gZ9EAr8TqQZDC2KAh0ZU/s1600/IMG_1084.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCNQ5FV-nWLn6THGEr_Rm77NRoSHtPdCk6s-otMvvw8aVCDgSD-mdy2nYnrz_QLHgG0eYs_wdyXzRV7DXyOIyPtHSzWH3Ej_sKi08wd-zbSdbU9SPW_D9Par6gZ9EAr8TqQZDC2KAh0ZU/s400/IMG_1084.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Twilight walk. I love the evening light more than sunrise.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMI9Hp-YmS5z0Ytt3uuKJWE3KEL3pGBHvvLV0I1L6eaSbTaM2gsGNiZuPJzb90KkOrP3CGRocjnbGVd0zFAVm6onL2MhPu_8csbpxDGz-5fcTwHM-OooLWo2RDo9gkfqd89AD1pZJIbPg/s1600/IMG_1085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMI9Hp-YmS5z0Ytt3uuKJWE3KEL3pGBHvvLV0I1L6eaSbTaM2gsGNiZuPJzb90KkOrP3CGRocjnbGVd0zFAVm6onL2MhPu_8csbpxDGz-5fcTwHM-OooLWo2RDo9gkfqd89AD1pZJIbPg/s400/IMG_1085.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Uh-ho....too early to see this!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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In addition to all the farm work, I am putting by garden goodies. My Grandmother's four gallon crock is full of cukes soaking in brine for icicle pickles. They are my favorite. Mister doesn't care for pickles, so the 14 pints will be Just Enough. Squash has been frozen and tomatoes are coming on in a week or so! Can't wait!<br />
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What have you been into this week? How do you prepare for winter?<br />
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I hope you will enjoy visiting and come back soon!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIx0RIW9JjZESEDEUoNrwYbEhyphenhyphenlKGAyo0hIGK0mDYQoNCy7Zd4X__ZKDlx3aSJ-xbXlMXV9SO0-n7dR5t116MSft_Dr23wZyPXNESSk3VI3NZrPeVj_6wLRrot8YmDorVaQPMUfMMMK0/s1600/IMG_1038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghIx0RIW9JjZESEDEUoNrwYbEhyphenhyphenlKGAyo0hIGK0mDYQoNCy7Zd4X__ZKDlx3aSJ-xbXlMXV9SO0-n7dR5t116MSft_Dr23wZyPXNESSk3VI3NZrPeVj_6wLRrot8YmDorVaQPMUfMMMK0/s400/IMG_1038.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Have a seat and enjoy your visit! </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSU6IaYgGGGUjFsB1tFF1pVn55l1BCbA_9OGE3YjSgThfWu8jcdGN_xKKdOvsi1zBje8WYDvHFLHdf5isJYYJHsc2vGWkB2gxuiAm3phb5Ycg8G205vNfCBb-B5CDjQ_YZdVpOfafDuBw/s1600/IMG_1030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSU6IaYgGGGUjFsB1tFF1pVn55l1BCbA_9OGE3YjSgThfWu8jcdGN_xKKdOvsi1zBje8WYDvHFLHdf5isJYYJHsc2vGWkB2gxuiAm3phb5Ycg8G205vNfCBb-B5CDjQ_YZdVpOfafDuBw/s400/IMG_1030.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pigged!</td></tr>
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Feeding and watering the pigs is always fun! They are so cute and have such interesting personalities....and their favorite thing to do is to rub against me to scratch their backs. This means I leave the pig pen covered in mud. Sometimes, they put their noses against my legs to smell where I have been and I leave with a perfect oval with two small holes from their snout. Trust me. If pigs had thumbs, we'd be working for them...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicXL6410XXoTyBqRMBBFOZiEqCvKeT6XbPEfYqgcRj2Wd51n70vo6YIesNE3WqXuDQqypYiY-Yvu_WFxrEl1xnMto_fVdH6T1iD9MqUYvFAEtMXdyxisSTp7vicTgdsTs7LG26YtNlvwU/s1600/IMG_1018.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicXL6410XXoTyBqRMBBFOZiEqCvKeT6XbPEfYqgcRj2Wd51n70vo6YIesNE3WqXuDQqypYiY-Yvu_WFxrEl1xnMto_fVdH6T1iD9MqUYvFAEtMXdyxisSTp7vicTgdsTs7LG26YtNlvwU/s400/IMG_1018.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clara, more faithful than the pups... and won't be still...</td></tr>
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Out of the 21 goats, Clara is the most faithful. Where ever I go in the pasture, she is right by me and will knock the others out of the way if they dare to get closer than she! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhzjg6Qeeh3vtY5AUX8DZudPSmpu5WMCr6fDD6XQPiiFOZq4mINfeqgqvMDuD6pTKrDQFxsGQOS6vtPiOVCCb67fTwsVNzSm_KNW5AAWMBKGtjrKGXHPExrNObcp8Xh_sfW6k2Gs4zgoQ/s1600/IMG_0978.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhzjg6Qeeh3vtY5AUX8DZudPSmpu5WMCr6fDD6XQPiiFOZq4mINfeqgqvMDuD6pTKrDQFxsGQOS6vtPiOVCCb67fTwsVNzSm_KNW5AAWMBKGtjrKGXHPExrNObcp8Xh_sfW6k2Gs4zgoQ/s400/IMG_0978.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me, 18, Monterrey Beach</td></tr>
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Been cleaning out pictures this week during the particularly hot and steamy parts of the day. I found this picture and could taste the way the day felt to me.... Isn't it funny how a photograph can trigger such a tangible memory? I spent the better part of two years, three months of it on beaches, bumming around the country starting when I was 18. This day was cool, by beach standards, and the sun was sparkling, the sky astoundingly blue. Delicious...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3e6czi2sPEzPlniABhuH5tLbotlf5cnjDJHT1mFI4dACYccDvoQmRAquRDGQyLKdnjWrbb-IWsMuV2HCZO0eNqyQ-FZwWHl1lkmsUoWbnrBZhRLvsKa_D6_zZS6t5uMJWMDuNKj7F8A8/s1600/IMG_0967.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3e6czi2sPEzPlniABhuH5tLbotlf5cnjDJHT1mFI4dACYccDvoQmRAquRDGQyLKdnjWrbb-IWsMuV2HCZO0eNqyQ-FZwWHl1lkmsUoWbnrBZhRLvsKa_D6_zZS6t5uMJWMDuNKj7F8A8/s400/IMG_0967.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cutest booties ever...</td></tr>
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Finished the baby blanket and sweater and had enough yarn left to make these <a href="http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/simple-crossover-bootie" target="_blank">adorable booties</a>. Honestly, they knit up in less than 30 minutes and are the cutest things ever! And, since they took so little yarn, I see that these might become my go-to project for leftovers! I like to give pregnant students a little something handknit for their babies and these would be perfect -- fast, inexpensive, and useable! <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmgFYJBEY8cgJFMdzwx0XVtzZFh9NwhTtGqGDdy9qUzx4M266O-bQ4xzUg4cxhg3GjVtzH314Ptf9eo1jDb3SUvwiiuVxlbfJ6PA29jcVVw0yuAp93wh29YlEmb7QOn5HJRLmoX7wIyWU/s1600/IMG_0939.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmgFYJBEY8cgJFMdzwx0XVtzZFh9NwhTtGqGDdy9qUzx4M266O-bQ4xzUg4cxhg3GjVtzH314Ptf9eo1jDb3SUvwiiuVxlbfJ6PA29jcVVw0yuAp93wh29YlEmb7QOn5HJRLmoX7wIyWU/s400/IMG_0939.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Evening walks..</td></tr>
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Every day ends with a lovely walk. The pups love the swimming that comes with the walk... I love the stillness to bookend my days...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0u3i8ry812fChVgRCFypVCaGwVzW5A4AATrpzACrhqDyt886-oLXI26lJSYyK3ppHNNOmdU50uuBoERiSkVlSAjmt1u8hEX2pdlekQC_9tnf8SV8P3fUKwoTbw9vbjrHfmT3sEey-tMk/s1600/IMG_0930.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0u3i8ry812fChVgRCFypVCaGwVzW5A4AATrpzACrhqDyt886-oLXI26lJSYyK3ppHNNOmdU50uuBoERiSkVlSAjmt1u8hEX2pdlekQC_9tnf8SV8P3fUKwoTbw9vbjrHfmT3sEey-tMk/s400/IMG_0930.JPG" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Equipment repair </td></tr>
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And, as always on the farm, one repairs rather than replaces. Installing new handles, a little scrub of a wire brush, some oil, and these are good as new. This week, I am teaching myself to change the oil in my tractor. It won't be today, however. The rain has poured all night and we have flash flood warnings. So, it is a "finish in the house" day -- touch up some paint in the upstairs bath, finish the three doors in the dining room, rough up the trim in the downstairs bath and repaint.<br />
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What are you into this week? <div class="blogger-post-footer"><script type="text/javascript">
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